| So many mouths
|
| To feed on the farm
|
| Sonny was the second
|
| To the last one born
|
| His mamma ran away
|
| And his daddy beat him bad
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| And he grew up wild
|
| Good love he never had
|
| He had a left
|
| Like henry’s hammer
|
| A right like betty bamalam
|
| Rode with the muggers
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| In the dark and dread
|
| And all them sluggers
|
| Went down like lead
|
| Well he hung with the hoods
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| He wouldn’t stroke the fans
|
| But he had dynamite
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| In both his hands
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| Boom bam
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| Like the slammer door
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| The bell and the can
|
| And the bodies on the floor
|
| Beware the bear’s in town
|
| Somebody’s money says
|
| The bear’s going down
|
| Yeah, the bear never smiles
|
| Sonny’s going down
|
| For miles and miles
|
| Sonny’s going down
|
| For miles and miles
|
| The writers didn’t like him
|
| The fight game jocks
|
| With his lowlife backers
|
| And his hands like rocks
|
| They didn’t want to have
|
| A bogey man
|
| They didn’t like him
|
| And he didn’t like them
|
| Black cadillac
|
| Alligator boots
|
| Money in the pockets
|
| Of his sharkskin suits
|
| Some say the bear
|
| Took a flop
|
| They couldn’t believe it When they saw him drop
|
| He had a left
|
| Like henry’s hammer
|
| A right like betty bamalam
|
| Rode with the muggers
|
| In the dark and dread
|
| And all them sluggers
|
| Went down like lead
|
| Joe louis was his hero
|
| He tried to be the same
|
| But a criminal child
|
| Wears a ball and chain
|
| So the civil rights people
|
| Didn’t want him on the throne
|
| And the hacks and the cops
|
| Wouldn’t leave him alone
|
| Beware the bear’s in town
|
| Somebody’s money says
|
| The bear’s going down
|
| Yeah, the bear never smiles
|
| Sonny’s going down
|
| For miles and miles
|
| Sonny’s going down
|
| For miles and miles
|
| At the foot of his bed
|
| With his feet on the floor
|
| There was dope in his veins
|
| And a pistol on the drawer
|
| There was no investigation
|
| As such
|
| He hated needles
|
| But he knew too much
|
| Criss-crossed
|
| On his back
|
| Scars from his daddy
|
| Like slavery tracks
|
| The second-last child
|
| Was the second-last king
|
| Never again was it the same
|
| In the ring
|
| He had a left
|
| Like henry’s hammer
|
| A right like betty bamalam
|
| Rode with the muggers
|
| In the dark and dread
|
| And all them sluggers
|
| Went down like lead
|
| They never could be sure
|
| About the day he was born
|
| A motherless child
|
| Set to working on the farm
|
| And they never could be sure
|
| About the day he died
|
| The bear was the king
|
| They cast aside
|
| Beware the bear’s in town
|
| Somebody’s money says
|
| The bear’s going down
|
| Yeah, the bear never smiles
|
| Sonny’s going down
|
| For miles and miles
|
| Sonny’s going down
|
| For miles and miles
|
| «some day they’re gonna write a Blues for fighters. |
| It’ll just be for
|
| Slow guitar, soft trumpet and a bell.»
|
| Sonny liston 1962 |